


The Barefoot Shadow

by evil_whimsey



Series: The Waterworld Stories [1]
Category: Waterworld (AU)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-11
Updated: 2015-12-17
Packaged: 2018-05-06 02:44:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5399933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evil_whimsey/pseuds/evil_whimsey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Mori makes a new acquaintance, in the forest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Mori was in the cave for close on a week, before he finally met what had been tailing him. He'd checked the area for bears, boars, wolves, panthers, snakes, or anything else to explain the eyes he'd felt tracking him since he arrived. But no matter his patience, or the thoroughness of his searching, it seemed the owner of those eyes was even more crafty and patient than himself.

The cave was small, but dry; it had enough sun exposure to keep it warm, with enough overhang to keep the elements out, and the air circulation was sufficient that he felt safe keeping a small campfire for his meals and evening activities. If it weren't for this constant extra presence, the place would've been perfect.

Of course he didn't ignore the possibility that the area could be haunted. And with that in mind, he burned a bit of his precious incense every evening, took time reciting sutras of peace and harmonious intent, and made sure that in his daily activities, he disturbed as little of the place as possible, and did his best every day to minimize all signs of his presence.

But the knowledge of another presence persisted, to the point that Mori could never truly relax, because whenever this thing showed itself, the last thing he wanted was to be surprised by it.

Finally one afternoon, on the verge of deciding that it might just be easier to move on, he stood out in the clearing near the cave entrance, and tried addressing his observer.

"If you would rather I leave, then I will," he calls. "I don't mean any harm. If you're wishing to speak to me, I would welcome that. If my presence causes a problem, I hope someone would let me know."

He waits there for quite awhile after, but the surroundings remain perfectly peaceful. The late autumn afternoon is quiet and golden, and on the breeze he catches a frosty scent; likely a cold snap on the way. But other than that, this place tells him nothing.

Eventually he goes in, checks his small woodpile and decides it will do through tonight and tomorrow morning. He sets about dinner preparations; nuts and seeds he's gathered, with grain and a tiny measure of rice, all roasted inside a little pumpkin from a wild patch he'd come across the day before. He decides to ration his precious store of proper leaf tea, and instead boils up some wild mint and some of the other sweet herbs he's been collecting.

From the pumpkin pulp, he extracts a handful of seeds, and then decides to go bury the rest in a likely-seeming spot between some trees at the edge of the woods. They'll either grow, or they'll enrich the soil for the trees; either way it will be useful.

Of course for the duration of the short walk, he keeps every sense tuned to the space around him. And although he's become somewhat accustomed (or maybe just resigned) to the sensation of being watched, that doesn't make it any less uncomfortable. But even when he goes back inside, eats his modest supper, drinks his tea, nothing appears. He considers turning in early after that, but then decides if he's moving soon, it might be best to repack his shoulder basket, in which his few possessions--mostly dried food--are saved, and save himself the trouble later.

He's almost done, when a tiny trickle of gravel, falling down over the mouth of the cave, grabs his attention. His hands still, and he sits back on his heels, hardly daring to breathe, listening.

And he feels it. The presence of his watcher; he's been straining his senses toward it for days, and now he knows without doubt, they are here. Silently he rises up, walks toward the cave entrance, placing each foot with caution, and no sound that he can hear. Just beneath the rock shelf overhanging the cave mouth, he stops.

Listens.

And waits.

There is no further sound from his visitor, but he can sense them undoubtedly above him. He feels it as a faintest pressure on the nape of his neck; a barely tangible thickness in the air against his skin; a nameless extra _somethingness_ crackling in his blood as it pulses through his body, alert and ready to send him fleeing, or swell out into his muscles and bones if he has to fight. Mori has been in both situations before, enough times to make him quite capable, enough that he is not terribly worried over the possible outcome either way. But he is quite sure that in all his travels, all his misadventures and close calls, he has never felt anything like this.

Eventually he realizes that one of them will have to do something. He can't go to bed with this stalemate, and he can't stand here all night waiting for something to change.

"I don't know if you can understand me," he says, in a normal tone, just as if his watcher were standing before him. "But I have to tell you, this lurking makes me suspicious. I know you're up there listening. I know you've been around since I came here. I would prefer it, if you would come to where I can see you."

There's a barely audible shifting of rock above him, and what he could swear was the softest of snickers. "If you want to see me, why don't you come out?"

Ah, so his watcher could speak. Well that narrowed the field quite a bit.

"You'll have to pardon me," he answers, "if I judge that an unwise thing to do. What's to say you won't attack from above, as soon as I come out?"

There was definitely a quiet chuckle this time. Apparently, he amuses his watcher. "I didn't attack before, when you were burying your seeds."

Mori sucks in a breath and his heart skips a beat. This person was on the ledge then? How on earth had he not noticed?

"I. I didn't see you."  
"I didn't want you to."

Admittedly he's chagrined, but this is getting them exactly nowhere. "Is there a reason for that? Generally, when people don't mean any trouble to each other, they don't mind talking face-to-face."

"Well, then you should be okay to come out." The smile in that voice is unmistakable; it sounds to Mori as though his visitor is actually having fun with this.

Judging by the voice--a youngish male, perhaps around his age--this person doesn't sound very big. Although judging by the fact he didn't even _see_ them when he re-entered the cave earlier, they could be anything. And he hasn't survived this long by taking foolish chances on a dare.

"Could it be that you're afraid?" he says, putting on a thoughtful tone. "That you're hiding because you think I might harm you?"

"Afraid?" Now the voice laughs outright, seemingly delighted by the absurdity of the notion. "You'd have to catch me, before you could hurt me. And I know you couldn't do that."

Interesting, Mori thinks. That his watcher's first inclination would be evasive, rather than confrontational. Typically when men were challenging each other, one would be quick to point out how the other would have to best him, first.

Which could mean this stranger--having the advantage of knowing Mori by sight--is aware that he isn't a match for Mori in terms of size or strength. Not that he intends to take this for granted; it was exactly those kinds of assumptions that got people hurt or killed in these woods.

"Honestly," he answers. "I have no interest in catching you. All I wish, is to meet the person I'm speaking to. The person who has been watching me for five days. You know in some places, that's considered poor manners."

"Really? You mean, like at the place you came from?" Curious, is this voice now.  
"Like in most places I've been," Mori offers, filing away clue number two: his visitor didn't encounter other people often, or else hadn't been much schooled in etiquette.

"Where was the place you came from? Was it very far away?"  
Ah, personal questions. Now Mori has something to bargain with, perhaps. He'll just have to play it carefully.

He leans back against the rock, at the entrance of the cave. "The place where I first started out, yes, it's very far. Then I came to the lake, and I've been traveling around it awhile."

"How long?"  
"Oh....three harvest seasons, I guess?"  
"Harvest. Oh, you mean when people clean their fields, and have festival?"

Clue number three: the faceless young man wasn't raised in a farming village (which all the settlements around the lake were, to some degree). Or possibly he's a good actor, and just having Mori on. "That's right."

The ensuing pensive quiet suggests that his visitor's questions are sincere, that he's filing away facts about Mori himself. Of course Mori also has questions, but for the time being, he thinks it better to let his visitor do the asking. Almost invariably, he's learned, curious people eventually reach a point where they want to talk about themselves, and he thinks it's possible, that if he does not ask any of the questions his visitor may be anticipating, then eventually the young man may simply be compelled to come down and present himself.

So Mori waits, he is exceedingly good at waiting, better than just about anyone he's ever known. He waits, and listens, and lets the unasked questions build up in his visitor's expectation.

And before very much longer, he's rewarded. "I can see the stars really well up here."

"This clearing has a good view," Mori agrees.

"I used to stay in that cave for awhile. It's pretty good. But you wanna know what? When the rainy season comes, where I'm sitting now turns into a waterfall."

"Well. That's good to know." Looks like he'll be moving in the morning, after all. The visitor might just want him out of this cave, but better safe than sorry.

"I found a better place, though. It's a real house, and nobody lives there."

"Hm. Sounds like you were fortunate," Mori remarks, taking care to keep his voice neutral as possible, even though a real house, unoccupied, sounds exactly like what he's been seeking all this time.

"It has a water well. And a--a place to sit, in front. Hey, you wanna come see it? It's not too far, I could show you."

"Ahhh...." Mori tries to sound like he's tempted by the idea, and then regretful. "I'm afraid it's a bit late, to be walking around. I was planning on bedding down soon."

"Oh. You're gonna go to sleep now?" His visitor sounds even more regretful than him. Deeply disappointed, actually.

"I've had a long day," says Mori. "And if this cave isn't a good place to stay, I'll have to set out early to find a new camp."  
"It will be frosty in the morning," his visitor informs him. "And then all the clouds will come, and before it's nighttime again, it'll be raining."

"I thought I smelled frost coming. Didn't think the weather would turn, though."  
"Yep. It'll rain."

"Hm. Then I should definitely get an early start." Here Mori puts on a thinking-out-loud tone, for his visitor's benefit. "Need to bundle up tonight, too." He moves a few steps back from the cave entrance, ambling back toward his pack and taking no special care to be quiet.

And then deliberately, he halts, letting one foot scuff the dirt a bit. "Oh. Say. I don't suppose you've eaten supper yet?"

"You have. You were cooking, and it smelled good."  
Mori eyes the leftover pumpkin and grains, which he'd intended to save for breakfast tomorrow, thinking if it buys him some goodwill tonight, he's certainly not going to be stingy. "I made more than I could eat. I hate to waste it. So you could have it, if you're hungry."

"I thought you were going to bed?"  
"I'm planning to," Mori says. "I'll leave this plate out, under the ledge. If you want it, you're welcome to it."

Again the silence is pensive; Mori is so attuned to his visitor by now, that he can feel the weight of the young man's thoughts, all the way over here. And though neither his offer of food or his feigned nonchalance are having the desired effect, he feels reasonably certain by now, that this stranger doesn't mean him ill. The fellow is extremely cautious, which is not a bad thing to be at all, but Mori's instinct tells him the disappointment he'd heard earlier was quite real, that this person might have been content chatting with him all night. Despite how cautious he is, he doesn't sound terribly shy, and Mori feels it's a strong possibility that he's just lonely.

Nonetheless, Mori would just as soon not stay up all night chatting. After days of high-tension alert, feeling stared at and followed all the time, he truly is tired. And he suspects if he's piqued the stranger's interest enough, there's a better than fair chance they will meet in person before much longer. Possibly tomorrow, or the day after. And heaven knows Mori is patient. He can wait.

"So. What are you gonna do, when it rains tomorrow?" the stranger asks eventually.

"Well I should hope that I find someplace dry by then. Maybe back in the trees. Maybe another cave."

"You won't find any good caves tomorrow. The animals took them up already. There was one place where Badger used to live. But the spiders moved in there."

"I certainly don't want to upset any spiders," Mori remarks, taking up his dinner plate, and returning to the cave entrance. "All right, I'm putting the food here for you. Enjoy the rest of your night."

He returns to lay out his bedroll, with his one blanket, and then dons all his spare clothes for extra layers, before banking the coals in the firepit. He keeps his ears cocked to the ledge over the cave, but otherwise goes through his normal routine, stretching out and sighing when he's finally in his bed.

His visitor is quiet throughout, and although Mori is a bit perturbed that he won't actually get any decent sleep with someone perched nearby, it certainly won't be the first time he's spent the night in light, expectant doze.

He is impressed with his visitor's patience though, as it is several hours before a shadow of movement at the cave entrance rouses him. He feigns deep sleep, unable to see anything with one eye barely cracked, but he can feel the presence that loiters briefly at the cave mouth, before melting away into the night.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "...Foxes often take up residence in abandoned or ruined houses, which might show themselves in their full, uncrumbled magnificence to humans who happen upon them. Sometimes the house has the reputation of being haunted; sometimes it has no reputation, and the bewildered visitors discover later that their gracious hosts were something more or less than human. The magic used to disguise these houses is the same used by more conventionally denned foxes to make their holes in the ground look like houses or palaces."
> 
> [from _"Fox Abodes: Graveyards, roofs, and your own living room"_ , at [issendai.com](http://academia.issendai.com/fox-abodes.shtml)]

True to the stranger's prediction, the weather moves in late in the afternoon, dark blue clouds massing in from the north, a serious cold spell of which that morning's frost was only a mild precursor. Mori gives up on his hike earlier than he would've liked, to return to a huge tree with a hollowed trunk he'd scouted out not long ago. It was the best prospect he'd found all day, aside from a couple of small caves. He left those alone, figuring that since the stranger had been accurate about the weather, the chances were good he'd been truthful about the caves' occupancy as well.

Somehow, he's managed to go the whole day without feeling watched. And considering how he's been scouring all around for a decent shelter, he's fairly certain he would've noticed the stranger stalking him again. Perhaps the gift he'd left behind for the stranger either put him off following Mori further, or he was currently preoccupied with its use. 

Early this morning he'd awakened stiff and shivering, but had gone straight to the cave entrance to see what had become of the food he'd left out. He found the plate was quite clean, but that to his surprise, the stranger had left his own offering of food; a fresh-caught river trout, wrapped in broad green leaves and white with morning frost, as well as a quail egg, and two small wild golden apples.

Mori scanned the clearing, and even ventured out of the cave to check the ledge above, but this was his first confirmation of his very definite solitude. After enjoying a veritable feast for breakfast, with no one to thank for it, he went out and buried the fish remains and apple cores, and then after cleaning his hands, dug into his pack for something to even out his exchange with his mysterious, resourceful visitor. They had given him much more than he'd offered initially, and considering the fish and the apples, had gone to considerable effort in the process.

He dug through his clothing, but there was really none he could spare, with winter coming soon. He thought about leaving the stranger a poem, but composing a fitting one could take him half the day, and if this person hadn't known what a village harvest was, the chances he could read or appreciate a poem were probably slim.

So instead, he took out a piece of parchment from his meager collection, folded it into an envelope, and poured a measure of his tea leaves into it. It was a modest amount, enough for a few cups maybe, but the tea was excellent quality, with a pleasant flavor. It was also his only real luxury, and to share what little he had, he felt, should make he and the stranger even, in their exchange.

There wasn't a lot of room to stretch out in his tree shelter, but at least his travel pack--a basket really, with straps to wear over his shoulders--would stay dry, and he could lean against the spongy moss-scented wall of the trunk to sleep later on. He had gathered a little pile of firewood, more out of habit than anything, so in case it got desperately cold overnight, he could try to make a small fire. Although given the close quarters, and the dampness of the ground inside the tree, he didn't expect to have much success.

**

When the rain finally comes in earnest, it's wrapped in thick cold mist, obscuring the forest around him. The birds had all taken shelter some while ago, so the only sound is the distant patter of rain on rocks and leaves, and the closer drip-drip-drip where it's running off his shelter. He manages to scoot around and get his extra clothes back on, and then drapes his blanket around his shoulders and over his head, making a small snug tent of it. He snacks on some dried fruit and nuts from his stores, drinks some water, wishing it were hot tea, and then settles in to wait out the rain. He wonders if the dry, warm, spacious cave he'd left was under a waterfall yet.

The rain drips and pours, and Mori watches the shifting wet gray and dozes, thinking about sunshine and gardens, and how he'd like to have a garden of his own. A place where he could tend the seeds he planted, watch them sprout and furl out new green leaves. Maybe he'd plant squash, melons, herbs, beans of various kinds. A fruit tree would be nice, though they would take years to mature...

He's either dozing or completely caught up in his imaginary garden, when the stranger returns; Mori would never be entirely sure. All he knows is that one moment he is alone and his knees are starting to stiffen, and the next moment there is a moving shape emerging from the mist.

Mori hunkers as far back into the tree as he can, ducking under his blanket, trying to make himself as unnoticeable as possible, and watches the shape resolve into a person. Walking toward him. A young man with an untidy mop of brown hair, carrying a red waxed-paper umbrella, barefoot and dressed only in a pair of ragged homespun pants cinched around his hips with a drawstring, the legs of which end in frayed tatters somewhere around mid-calf.

As soon as he gets a proper look at the fellow, Mori knows this has to be last night's visitor. For one thing, he's crossing the forest floor--all scattered dead leaves and branches--without the slightest sound. For another, he is headed unerringly toward Mori, though as far as most people's eyes would perceive, Mori is well hidden. And if that weren't enough, taking in the stranger's appearance, Mori is sure he couldn't have made up someone to better fit the voice he'd conversed with last night, no matter how hard he tried.

The stranger looks young, just as Mori had predicted. About half a head shorter than himself, with a slim, toned sprinter's build. He looks like he'd be highly adept at running, or climbing, and Mori has no trouble believing that if (for whatever unknown reason) he should try and chase the fellow, catching him would be a serious challenge.

Lastly, as if there was any doubt in Mori's mind, the stranger walks straight up to the opening of his shelter, and kneels down to regard him with great solemnity.

"I don't know how to cook the gift you gave me. I like the smell of it very much. But I don't know how to fix it."

For just a moment, Mori is distracted by the color of his eyes; a rare mellow bronze, rimmed and flecked with hazel. He's never seen a person with eyes this color before.

"Um. Well. It's tea," he says, once he collects himself. "You just boil some water, and pour it over the leaves."

"I saw you cooking water, at that cave. But I burnt the bowl I was trying to cook it in. Then it broke, and the water put out the fire."

Mori tries to think if he's ever met someone his age who didn't know how to make tea. Offhand, he can't come up with a single soul. "What--er--kind of bowl did you use?"

"It was in the house," the young man shrugs. "It was. I don't know the name. It's the kind that breaks if you drop it. I dropped a different one before, when I was just looking at them. Then it was all like rock pieces, everywhere."

So likely a ceramic or clay bowl, Mori guesses. "You shouldn't put that kind on the fire," he tells the stranger. "They're not strong enough. Is there an iron pot, in your house?"

"There's all kinds of things. I don't know what they all are. But I thought you'd be in this tree, when the rain came. So I was going to tell you, you shouldn't make a fire here, because the tree will get upset. And then I thought you could stay at the house I found, instead of being in this tree, and then I could learn how to cook...uh. Your tea."

It takes Mori a few seconds to pick apart the stranger's points, and line them up logically. Leaving aside the peculiar idea of upsetting the tree with a campfire, it didn't sound like a bad offer, honestly.

Glancing out at the steady rain, he asks, "Is your house very far?"

"It's not a long walk. Not as far as you went today. I found this thing," pointing to the umbrella he holds, "so if you don't want your basket to get wet. You can use it."

That was precisely Mori's concern, but he feels compelled to point out an inconsistency. "If I have the umbrella, then you'll get wet."

"I don't mind water. Here." He holds the umbrella out toward Mori, who then has to unfold from his hiding crouch, untangle from his blanket, and squat-waddle his way to the tree's opening. Leaning out a bit, he feels the bracing air on his face, and sees a puff of steam from his breath. The tree hadn't seemed terribly warm, but now he sees it's a sight cozier than he'd appreciated.

"Aren't you freezing?" he asks, noting the stranger's bare feet and torso; his sun-freckled shoulders now spotted with raindrops.  
"Nah," the young man waves a hand. "It's not like it's snowing." He's still holding out the umbrella, and Mori feels obliged to take it off his hands at least.

"Wouldn't you like a shirt or something? I have extra." He'd planned on packing his spare layers away anyhow, thinking once he'd hiked a bit, he wouldn't need them.

Here the stranger frowns thoughtfully. "I had a shirt. But I left it by a tree the other day, and then when I came back it was gone."

Wait a second. On a sudden strong hunch, Mori folds the umbrella closed so he can turn about in the tree, and dig in his travel basket. He pulls out food, his box of paper, ink, and brushes, his water canteen and small cookpot. And then there at the bottom, he finds it.

"This wouldn't by any chance be yours?" He twists back around, and holds up a folded bundle of rough-woven brown cloth. He'd found it caught up in some underbrush, the same day he'd discovered the cave. The same day which, oddly enough, he'd started feeling eyes on him all the time.

The young man smiles at him, looking pleased and not at all surprised. Frankly, Mori isn't that surprised either.  
"You're a good person," he tells Mori, with eyes warm and approving. "You didn't have to give this back to me, but you did."

"You knew I had it, the whole time, didn't you," says Mori. "You know, you could've just asked for it back, days ago."

"Hm," the young man nods. "But I didn't know what kind of person you were, then."  
Mori lifts an amused eyebrow. "So you watched me all week, to find out?"

The young man is slipping his shirt over his head, and when his face pokes out from the neck, he's grinning. "I watched you for a day to find out. And then you were interesting, so I watched you for more days."

"I take it not a lot happens in these woods," Mori chuckles, shaking his head, but the young man blinks inquisitively at him.  
"Oh no, lots of things happen, all the time. But I haven't seen a person like you happen around here, before."

Mori could comment that he hasn't seen a person like this stranger happen ever, but then decides since said stranger is getting quite wet now, perhaps that conversation should be conducted someplace drier. 

"You know, if I'm to come to your house and help you make tea, it would only be polite to offer my name. I'm called Takashi," he says, with a small bow, "and I thank you for your invitation."

"Takashi," the young man smiles, and then copies Mori's bow. "I am Yasashii."

"That's an uncommon name, Yasashii. Is it your family name?"

"Nope, it's just mine. So you want to see the house now?" Unlike when he'd first approached, Yasashii now looks eager, cheerful, just the way he'd sounded last night. Mori actually regrets his paranoia now, that he had missed the opportunity to meet this rather compelling person earlier. But then he couldn't have expected anything like this.

"Please," he nods. "I just need a moment to re-pack. You sure you don't want my coat, or anything else to wear?"  
"It will just get wet," shrugs Yasashii. "Anyway, I'm not cold."

Which is hard to believe, given the young man's light frame, and that Mori himself can feel the nip of the air on his cheeks, nose, and fingers. But he figures in the time he'd spend trying to press more clothes on his new acquaintance, the young man would only be getting wetter. So instead he packs as quickly as possible, and then crawls out from the tree, spreading open the umbrella again, and dragging his travel pack after him.

**

They walk along in silence for the most part; Mori is engrossed in listening for Yasashii's footfalls (though all he can hear is his own occasionally), and Yasashii appears to be inspecting the misty woods around them, in an attentive manner which looks for all the world as though he is listening for something too.

Mori looks around, sees nothing but wet, gray, and trees. And all he can hear is rain and his own feet on the ground. He spends a few minutes studying Yasashii, wondering how he moves so quietly, and how he can stand to walk around in this chill with wet hair, clothes, and bare wet feet. But the young man doesn't seem to register the cold at all. He combs back his wet hair with his fingers, when it's dripping into his eyes, but other than that, he appears supremely unconcerned with the weather.

It's only when he turns a knowing sidelong look on Mori--a gleam of humor in his eye and a tiny quirk of a smile at the corner of his mouth--that Mori realizes he's been frankly staring, and Yasashii is well aware of it. At that point, Mori cuts his gaze elsewhere, and watches the forest floor, the trees, the neverending mist and rain, instead.

When they finally reach the weathered little cabin, nestled in among the high pines at the edge of a smallish field, Mori wonders how he could have missed the place in his previous expeditions around the area. It isn't far at all from the cave where he'd stayed, or the tree where he'd taken shelter. In fact, he has a strong feeling he's come through here, before. Something about the field (more of a long, wide clearing really) seems familiar.

Though obviously he must be mistaking it for some other clearing he'd come across, because the cabin is rather hard to overlook, and he knows he would've remembered it.

As they're crossing the field, Mori slows and asks, "Are you certain, that no one lives here?"  
"I watched this place a long, long time," nods Yasashii. "But I never saw people, or lights, or smoke from the top, up there," pointing to the squat brick chimney on the roof. "And when I went inside, I didn't smell people, or food, just dust and moths. And wet. Like a cave, where no animals stay."

"Is it wet inside?" Mori asks eying the roof as they draw nearer. He sees the porch overhang is leaking at one corner, and appears to be sagging on its supports. It's been a long time since he helped repair a roof. He wonders if he still remembers how.

"Not today, it wasn't. It just, in these little spaces inside, with little--um--doors, it smells like....old wet, y'know?"

Damp and mildew, Mori guesses. Which was to be expected, if the place has been unoccupied and unaired for a long while.

When they reach the shelter of the porch, Yasashii goes directly in the open door, while Mori shakes off the umbrella, and props it against the wall, and then out of long-ingrained habit, unties and removes his soaking straw sandals and the wet cloth covering his feet beneath. The hike had warmed his body, as he'd predicted, but his feet are aching with cold and his toes are practically numb.

He hobbles indoors then, shivering, taking in the bare front room with its shuttered windows, a square area of rotted crumbling floor mats off toward one corner, and everywhere else wooden flooring, thick with dust except where Yasashii had left footprints. 

Out of curiosity he bends down, wipes away a patch of dust to feel the floor planks. Smooth-sanded wood, which might have once been waxed and polished. It's a fine quality floor for a rustic cabin, and here at least, it feels sound, though who knows if that's the case throughout the house.

He shrugs off his pack and props it near the door, and is about to call for Yasashii (who'd wandered directly off to another room), when he stands and discovers the young man standing directly beside him. The surprise jolts him some. "Do you make any sound at all?"

"Sorry, did I scare you?" Yasashii chuckles. He's toweling his hair with a square of rough sacking, and holds one out to Mori. "You want to see the rest of the house?"

"Sure, thanks." The only part of Mori that's wet is his feet, so he dries them off with the sacking, to prevent tracking water over the floor. Seeing Yasashii watching curiously, he explains. "This is a good floor, but if you leave water on it, it will eventually spoil the wood."

"Ah. Really." He turns to eye his own wet footprints tracked through the dust. "I should dry that up. It'd be bad if I spoiled the house."

While he sets about doing that, Mori kneels back down and wipes up the area around the entrance. With the dust cleaned away, he can see the rich deep tone of the planks; quality oak, and well chosen, from what he can tell. Looking around, he spots other dry footprints in the dust, presumably from Yasashii's occupation.

"It would look nice," he mentions, "if these floors were all cleaned. If you had the supplies to do it, I wouldn't mind helping."

Yasashii pokes his head back around, from the open partition at the back of the room, where he'd just passed through. "I didn't think about that. Huh."

Once the floor is dry, Mori heads for that opening, where his companion is waiting for him. This area turns out to be a tiny musty-smelling hallway, with two partitions on his left side, and one on the right. To the right, is a room floored with more decayed tatami, and wide shuttered windows. Yasashii shows him the closet inside, where indeed there is a smell of mildew, and a pile of bedding--half dragged out in the course of Yasashii's exploring--greatly in need of cleaning and airing.

Yasashii explains that he's been sleeping in there, because its warm, and Mori in turn explains that this is called a closet and traditionally, one lays out the bedding in the larger room, and sleeps there because it has more room to stretch out. At that, Yasashii measures him up and down, looks at the cramped quarters of the closet, and grins. "That makes sense."

At the back of the hallway is another mildewy closet, with seat cushions, extra quilts, and at the back, an object about as high as Mori's knee, draped in a dust sheet. When Yasashii points this out, he actually hesitates, and his voice drops low.

"I didn't look at that yet. It felt....strange. Like maybe it didn't want to be bothered."

Mori frowns. "Have you seen mice here?"  
"Nope. No mice."  
"Snakes? Bats?"  
Yasashii shakes his head.  
"Termites?"

"Nothing is alive in here, except us. This place is...." He looks up and around, furrowing his brow. "I think it keeps out things it doesn't want. It feels--when I'm by myself here--it feels very empty."

Mori has been in places which should have been empty, but weren't. He's been in haunted places, abandoned places where animals and insects have all but taken over. But this is the first he's heard of a place that's emptier than it should be.  
"How long have you stayed here?" he asks

"Since the moon was big. I came in a few times, just to see inside. But on that night I came here and stayed."

Thinking back to when he last saw a full moon, Mori calculates almost three weeks, and if there were any animals or insects in residence, Yasashii surely would have noticed in that time. Just based on their brief acquaintance, Mori has a strong feeling that Yasashii doesn't miss much.

They leave the closet then, with its mysterious covered object in the back (Mori is curious, but Yasashii does not seem eager to uncover the item), and move on to the other two rooms on this side. Both have flagstone flooring; in one room Mori recognizes a stone oven with a chimney built into one wall, and the other has a hole about the size of his fist, in the middle of the floor, and an upright wooden structure, open on top and bound in iron straps. Like a barrel, but more wide than tall.

"A bath," he says, crossing to inspect it. It's empty, but there's a bench inside, where Mori sees a person could sit in water up to their shoulders. Or in his case, somewhat lower.

"Bath?" Yasashii pronounces, standing at his shoulder, peering down. "What's it do?"

"You sit inside it, to soak." Mori squats down, and sees just what he'd hoped to: an iron structure beneath the tub, where one could burn firewood to heat the water. "I haven't had a decent bath in ages," he remarks. Although suddenly, he thinks there's almost nothing he'd like more, than to sit and relax in a quiet, steaming hot bath for awhile.

"I've seen people go to the smoke-pools before," says Yasashii. "The water is really hot there, but they get inside and sit. Is it like that?"

"Sort of," Mori nods. "They call those hot springs. I didn't know there were any around here."  
"Hm, if you go up the hill--." Yasashii straightens up and turns, his gaze going distant. "That way," he points, to someplace far past the bathroom wall. "Just a few people know about it, I think. They come up and stay a few days there, and sit in the water a lot. I always wondered how come."

"It's supposed to be good for your health," Mori says absently, wondering how one might go about filling this tub, and whether Yasashii would be willing to let him attempt it. "I know it's good for when you've been working, and you're sore."

"But how come they don't cook in there? I touched the water one time, but it felt way too hot."

"Well you aren't supposed to stay in for too long. And if you go in slowly, you get used to the heat."

"Huh." Yasashii eyes the tub and Mori, not looking terribly convinced. "Well you want me to cook some water now?"  
"Sure." And with some reluctance, he leaves the tub and lets Yasashii lead him back to the kitchen area.


	3. Chapter 3

The rainy weather continues, off and on, for the next four days. Every time there's enough of a lull, Mori starts thinking it might be time to pack up his things, thank his host and move on again. But then inevitably, Yasashii will peer out the front door, or out one of the windows, and say "Hm. More rain coming." And sure enough, within a quarter hour, there's another downpour.

To bide the time between brief dry spells, Mori does his best to make himself useful. Showing Yasashii how to fill and heat the bath, how to use the stone oven in the small kitchen, and the various pots and implements left in the cupboards. In the mornings, they drape their bedding over the single free-standing work counter in the kitchen to let it air out. Admittedly it doesn't do much good, as damp as it is in here. But he thinks he makes up for it, when he discovers a pile of rags suitable for cleaning in one of the storage closets, and sets to wiping all the dust from the floors.

In the course of cleaning, he has to explain to Yasashii that the straw floor matting is old and rotten and past saving. His intention was to simply haul it outside and clean the floors underneath, but Yasashii decides the forest animals might make good use of it. So he spends that afternoon trudging back and forth in the rain, heading out into the trees with an armload of mats, and returning some time later for another load. 

On the last trip he's gone for quite awhile, and returns with a decent catch of river trout, a pile of forest mushrooms, some white fat roots Mori doesn't recognize, and a bunch of those wild yellow apples, all bundled up in his shirt.

When Mori asks where he found all this bounty, Yasashii gives one of his small, mysterious smiles. "The forest is in a good mood, today."

What is less good, from Mori's point of view, is the pervasive odor of fish clinging to the young man's only shirt. "Here, I found some soap in the kitchen, let me wash that for you." 

Yasashii is at first dubious about the idea, but then Mori lends him one of his own shirts, and decides he may as well take care of all his laundry (long overdue for a proper scrubbing), in one go.

While he's heating a kettle of water (the one thing they have plenty of, here, since Mori located and uncapped the cabin's rain barrels outside), Yasashii alternates between curious observation, and plucking at the sleeves and collar of Mori's shirt he's wearing.

"This is really soft," he comments, before sniffing at the sleeve hem. "Hm, smells like you too."  
"Sorry, it's the cleanest one I had," says Mori, and Yasashii blinks at him.  
"It's not bad. I like it."

Indeed, Yasashii doesn't object to anything Mori does. The first couple of days, Mori tries to be conscientious about not overstepping his bounds in--what he feels is--Yasashii's home. But as he doesn't appear to know anything about living in an actual house, Mori's suggestions become demonstrations, and the next thing he knows, he's setting the whole place in order. Yasashii is eager to assist and follow Mori's instructions, but at no point does he seem interested in taking charge of the household, or establishing his ownership.

Although to all appearances, Yasashii is content having him around, it's an increasingly uncomfortable situation for Mori. Not the cabin or the company per se, just the knowledge that as accommodating as Yasashii might be, it's not as though Mori can impose on him all winter. And Mori's deadline for finding a place he can spend the winter is fast coming to an end. 

As much as he was truly hoping to not have to go back to one of the lake villages, it's beginning to look as if that will be his only choice; to go and once again offer his labor with one of the farms or tradesmen for the season, in return for room and board. Given his variety of skills and practical knowledge, he doesn't anticipate much of a challenge finding a place to fit in temporarily.

But then going on past experience, he knows he won't enjoy it much. In fact, the more this cold rainy spell at the cabin drags on, the more Mori finds he's dreading having to admit defeat soon, and return down to the lake. The prospect weighs on him to such an extent that Yasashii notices, and wanders in one evening while Mori is trying to forget his troubles in a steaming hot bath, watching his fingers prune up.

"D'you think there's something bad about this place?" Yasashii asks, perching on the step outside the tub.

"Bad? In what way?" This is the fifth day of their acquaintance, and Mori is just getting used to conversations starting out of the blue like this.

"I dunno," Yasashii shrugs, looking at him frankly. "You seemed to like it here at first, but now you're unhappy." He folds his arms over the rim of the tub, and rests his chin there, still watching Mori, who is in turn is watching the bath water lap the edges of the tub. He doesn't want to talk about his melancholy. The choices he made that led him to this solitary wandering life were the right ones, he still feels, and he won't start complaining about it now.

"I'm not unhappy about this place. It's good, you were lucky to find it. If you take care of the things I've shown you, it will make a good home for you, for a long time."

"Are you sad because of the rain? 'Cos it'll be gone tomorrow."  
"No," Mori shakes his head. "I guess. It's just winter coming on. I won't be able to travel, and I enjoyed that this summer."

"Oh. Yeah. Winter's kinda hard. I just want to sleep all the time, but that gets boring. And there's not many people who come around in winter. And the animals mostly sleep, or go somewhere else. So there's not much company."

Mori has wondered a few times, how Yasashii gets by in winter, how he manages to fend for himself. And since sitting here moping won't ultimately improve anything, he decides to ask.

"Do you always stay in this region, year-round?"  
"Here and there," Yasashii agrees. "I've gone to some other places, but I like these hills best."  
"What about the villages? Do you ever visit there?"

"Nooo." Yasashii shakes his head decisively. "Too busy. I don't go to those places."  
"But--. How did you get through winters, before?" Mori is thinking about food, warm clothing, and how as far as he's seen, Yasashii doesn't appear to have any personal possessions beyond the clothes on his back. And even those tend to be inconsistent.

But Yasashii doesn't appear to follow what, for Mori, would be a fairly standard line of reasoning. "Same way I get through summer, I guess," he shrugs. "Just I can't really sleep outside. And there's no apples. I always miss the apples in winter."

This was the point, Mori would think later, where he should probably have reached some kind of conclusion about Yasashii. He was generous, affable, very pleasing to look at, but he was also something else. Something that Mori ought to have put some serious thought into, what with this awfully convenient empty cabin in the middle of the woods, and this comely young man who moved soundlessly between rooms, spoke of other people as a curious different species, and could gather a feast from the forest at the drop of a hat.

But Mori doesn't go drawing any conclusions about his extraordinary new acquaintance then, largely because he's expecting to leave as soon as the weather lets up, and so the finer points of Yasashii's identity and origins are hardly important, he thinks.

 

Later that night, as they're laying out their beds in the back room, by the light of the lantern Mori had shown Yasashii how to tend, Mori decides this is the best time to offer his thanks, before moving on. Yasashii tends to to be restless through the night, and sleep in until well after sunrise, and if Mori is to make the most of this break in the weather, he'll need to get started very early.

"I don't want to inconvenience you in the morning," he says. "So I'd like to tell you now, how grateful I am, that you've let me stay here. This is a good house you've found."

Yasashii pauses in his imitation of Mori, drawing the quilts neatly up across his bed, and studies him. For a second, his eyes throw an odd refraction from the lantern light; appearing to glow like a cat's eyes, but as soon as Mori notices it, Yasashii cocks his head, and it's gone.

"Okay. I'm glad you came here. I like talking to you. And you showed me a lot of things," he smiles. "Thank you for that."

As Mori has already learned, Yasashii's smile is distracting. Whenever it appears, he finds himself looking at it longer than he intends to, and generally losing track of his intentions altogether. He knows he shouldn't stare, but he keeps forgetting himself, which is another reason he needs to move on soon.

Even now he has to duck his head, check his hands to remember what he was just doing, and recall the thread of conversation. "You're welcome." He's been reminding himself that he mustn't get too used to looking at that smile, lest he find himself attached to it. In such close quarters as this, it would only lead to the misery of wanting things he can't have, and Mori had decided long ago that it was best to live free from attachments and desires of that nature.

Someday, he had promised himself years ago, he was going to find a place all his own, where he could safely settle down and belong. Until then, he must remain disciplined, or else risk losing sight of his goal: a peaceful secluded home, a garden where he could plant and tend, and watch things grow. He's been seeking just the right place for a long time, and although he did not accomplish a home this summer, he thinks he's finally located the region he wants to stay in. 

For this one last winter, he'll have to endure the confinements of a village, a borrowed room in someone's house or trade establishment. But he will work hard, earn enough to start his homestead, and next spring when the snow melts, he will return to this region.

This is Mori's aim when he goes to sleep that night, and when he wakes in the morning, it has solidified into a purpose. He's able to look over at Yasashii, curled up tight as a pillbug in his bed, quilts tugged up to his nose, and tell himself it isn't the worst regret of his life, leaving here. He's able to gather his belongings in silence, tie on his sandals out on the porch, and set off across the frost-crunchy field toward the treeline, aiming in the direction of the barely-rising sun once he reaches the woods.

Someday, he will come back to this place, he promises himself, turning a last look back over his shoulder at the cabin. He won't forget about it, or the remarkable person who lives there. He'll come back someday, so there's no need to feel bereft over leaving.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aaaand this is where the story rating goes up.

Mori's resolve would have held up, he is sure. It was sufficient all the way back to the forest trail that sloped gradually downhill to the lake. When he came in sight of the river he'd crossed a fortnight ago on his way up, he still had a firm hold on his intentions.

But then as he's trudging downriver, seeking a place to safely cross the loud, white-capped torrent, all his best intentions are swept away by the sound of hurried footfalls, and someone shouting breathlessly after him.

"Takashi, wait, don't cross yet!"

At which point Mori learns that when running full tilt, Yasashii does actually make noise. "Wait for me, please!" The young man bursts from a thicket, pounding down the path toward him, temples and forehead wet with perspiration, and breathing heavily.

Mori stands, nonplussed, as Yasashii skids to a stop before him, barefoot as usual and once again shirtless, and puts up one hand to stay him, while he props the other hand on his knee, bending to catch his breath.

"What--what'd I....I'm sorry," he gasps. "Whatever I did wrong. I'm so sorry--and I won't do it again. Anything you want, just tell me, and I'll do better."

Mori is speechless, trying to make sense of the young man's pleading. And then Yasashii looks up to him, tears welling in his rare lovely eyes, and Mori is more intensely uncomfortable than he ever recalls being before in his life. 

In fact, horrified might not be too strong a word for how he feels. Because although he has endured plenty of hardships in his life, he is discovering far too late that he was not at all built to withstand this person's tears.

"You can have the house, if you want. I'll go someplace else. Just don't go away, please. Just let me see you sometimes. I won't be any trouble, I promise I won't bother you at all, if you'd just--."

The words stop right there, as both of them look down in equal surprise, at Mori's hands on Yasashii's shoulders. 

"...Don't," Mori says, and even he isn't sure what he means by this until his palm is framing Yasashii's cheek, gently thumbing away a tear there.

"Don't be upset. You didn't do anything wrong."  
"But, then. How come you're going away?" asks Yasashii. "You didn't say anything, I thought you liked it there. I thought. You were gonna stay."

"It's your home," Mori answers. "I didn't want to overstay my welcome. Since the rain stopped, it seemed like I should move on. Get myself back down to the lake, before winter moves in."

"So." Yasashii straightens, confused but mostly deeply unhappy. "There's somewhere else you want to be instead?"

"Not really." With a conscious effort, Mori is able to take his hand from Yasashii's cheek, but it only gets as far as his damp bare shoulder before it settles again, without any permission from Mori. "But that's what I usually do in winter. Find a settlement, work for someone there. Earn enough to live on through summer."

"You don't....it doesn't sound like you like it very much."  
"It's food and shelter through the winter," Mori says. "I don't particularly like it, but it's better than freezing and starving for four or five months." He had done that for most of a season a couple years ago, and it wasn't an experience he cared to repeat.

"But I can find food. And the house is warm."  
"I'll be underfoot," Mori demurs, and has to set his eyes elsewhere, because he can't look at Yasashii's sadness anymore. "Your home....we'd be cramped through the winter."

"Then I'll go somewhere else, like I said." Yasashii tries to duck into his line of sight, to catch his eye, but Mori shakes his head and keeps avoiding that searching look.  
"The house belongs to you, of course I couldn't turn you out. And you'd....you'd want it to yourself, soon enough."

"No. I wouldn't." Yasashii reaches out a hand, an echo of Mori's earlier gesture, laying it on his cheek. And with a spine-shiver of anxiety, Mori finds that he can't move, he can't evade that touch. "I want it with you. I don't want to be by myself again." Tilting over and peering up into Mori's eyes this time, with his dark wet lashes, and his dark bronze eyes, now lit honey-gold with the sun breaking through the trees, touching his skin, his perpetually untidy hair--.

And oh dear. Now Mori's touching his hair. Combing it back off the young man's forehead a bit, smoothing his fingertips across the creases in his fine brow. This truly is not wise, not at all. Things like this are how worlds of trouble get started. Indulging some whim or sudden nameless desire like now, it can only lead to the things he's always cautioned himself against.

But he is appallingly helpless here, with Yasashii standing so close, looking to him with such trust, and hope, and....

"You barely know me," Mori says, in a fairly hopeless effort to save himself. Or them. Or something. "You should know to be more careful, with people you invite to stay. Not all of them would have your best interests at heart."

"But you would," Yasashii states. "I've watched you every day, and I've _listened_. I know the kind of person you are, here--." Laying a hand to Mori's chest, over his heart. "And if you don't want to stay around me, that's okay. I think you do, I think we feel the same way, but." He pauses for a shrug. "Either way, I know I don't want to be by myself here, and I don't want you to go away."

"You can't know that," Mori attempts. "Not in just a few days."

"I can. I know all kinds of things. I know your heart's beating really fast, because you're a little bit scared, but you want. And you can have what you want." Yasashii has lifted his chin, with a hint of challenge, and Mori's chest wants to turn itself wrong-side out, and eject his pounding heart directly into Yasashii's hand.

"But if I stay," he says, knowing he's crumbling, he's losing this without even lifting a finger to fight. "I might not.... I mean, what if I can't leave?" 

Because this place is too perfect, Yasashii's cabin and the field out front, it's exactly what he's wanted for so long. And Yasashii himself. Two days in his company, and Mori knew this was someone he could stay with, someone he could desire with all his heart, and spend his life in the worst conceivable torment over being unable to have.

And now he watches, shattered and spellbound, as Yasashii's smile spreads with the same slow warmth of the dawning sun, now touching their shoulders. "Then I would be happy. And if I got to stay with you, I'd be even more happy. So please." He steps in closer, slipping his hand from Mori's chest, up and around the back of his neck, while Mori's heart tries to crawl into his throat to follow it. "Please don't go away."

Mori doesn't bend down, so much as sort of melt where he stands, just as Yasashii straightens up to meet him, in a kiss as sure and inevitable as a swollen dewdrop falling from the bended tip of a leaf. Mori registers the yielding warmth of the mouth touching his, and a sweetness that burns in his chest and behind his closed eyes.

By some silent agreement they draw even closer, Yasashii is cupping Mori's face in both hands; when he draws in a breath Mori can feel it against his own chest, and when he sighs it out into their kiss, something breaks in Mori. Sharp and heated, like Yasashii's skin under his palms, muscle shifting over bone, and Mori's caution evaporates; his fears are nothing, there is only this deepening kiss, and the next, and the next, feeding a craving Mori has never felt, not for anyone before.

He is aware, in some far-off inconsequential way, of Yasashii loosening the straps of his hiking pack from his shoulders, and then he actually has to give a sliver of attention toward keeping his balance, unwillingly breaking one kiss to shrug off his pack, bending down a bit to rest it on the ground. It falls on its side, and he doesn't care, and before he can straighten again, Yasashii has followed him down, twining his arms over Mori's shoulders, blinking at him with eyes like molten coins, hot and soft, half-lidded with a sleepy hunger.

They drop to their knees together on the soft bank, and maybe this isn't the best or most comfortable place for what can only follow from here, but five seconds between kisses is much too long, and having to stop and think about a better spot is out of the question right now. He doesn't want to miss a moment of Yasashii trying to crawl into his lap, nipping and licking at his lips, warm hands seeking beneath his shirt, sliding up his ribs, and then tugging at the cloth between them.

"Off, here can I--?" breathes Yasashii against his mouth, and Mori lifts his arms without question, letting him tug loose the tie on the garment and slip it off. Then he leans back, and Mori has to blink him into focus; gazing on Mori with soft wonder, before skimming his fingers over Mori's bare shoulder.

"Oh, you're perfect, every day I wished I could touch you like this." His warm hands go sliding down Mori's chest, before reaching around his back, digging fingertips into the muscle, pressing a groan from Mori.

The air around them is chilly, and the ground is damp and even colder, but Yasashii's body is a furnace, all that smooth heated skin, faint taste of salt on Mori's tongue when he presses a kiss to Yasashii's throat, sliding his mouth down to the shoulder. 

"Ah--." Yasashii shivers in his arms, shifting on his lap, making Mori terribly, extraordinarily aware of both their arousal; Yasashii's erection pressed to his abdomen, and his own, straining against his clothing, and unbearably trapped under Yasashii's restless weight. The heat between them is a fever now; Mori's back is exposed to the morning chill, but his chest is broken out in a light sweat, his face is flaming hot, mirroring the high flush in Yasashii's cheeks.

Their kisses have found an edge of urgency, teeth and tongues together, and when Mori slides his hands firm down Yasashii's hips, to drag him close and tight, Yasashii's breath explodes in a soft gasp beneath Mori's ear, before he bites at Mori's earlobe.

"More, wanna touch you more," he insists, fishing a hand down between them and tugging at the drawstring on Mori loose pants. At some point his own have come loose as well, and they slip down his hips when he presses Mori back, until the damp frostbitten weeds are tickling at Mori's shoulderblades.

Not that Mori can spare the least interest for the grass, when Yasashii's warm, sure fingers find and circle his erection, tightening, dragging upward, and Mori's back arches so hard it nearly cramps. He is more or less blind from this point on, but just sensible enough to catch Yasashii by the back of the neck and haul him down for a kiss. The abrupt movement makes him totter and collapse between Mori's spread legs, landing on his chest with a quiet oomph, but then their hips shift, instinctively, and suddenly it's--

"...perfect, ohyesgod. Right there...." Later on, when he recalls that this was his voice pleading, Mori might be somewhat appalled at himself. But not right now, oh no. Right now it's all he can do not to shake apart from how much he _wants_ , and the delicious bruising force of Yasashii's kisses, claiming his mouth, even as their hands twist and curl against each other, down between them, blind clumsy fingers twining together as they thrust into their joined hands.

It's Yasashii's broken, guttural whimper and the hot wetness splashing over Mori's hand, against his belly, that sends him over as well, shuddering and curling up against the body now collapsing into him, deafened by the lightning-blast of his climax, pleasure so intense that it trembles on the dull edge of pain.

Mori thumps back to the earth, chest heaving, Yasashii's limp weight sprawled across him. He catches a hip, a shoulder, but that isn't enough, so he folds his arms around Yasashii's damp body, holding him close and tight, and waits for the universe to stop roaring all around them.

 

There is no more question of Mori leaving, after that. He lets Yasashii lead him back to the cabin, feeling a desperate sort of gratitude when he steps back inside. Yasashii proudly brings him a cup of tea in the bath, and cleaves to his side while they share meals, and seems determined in all ways to make up for Mori's years of solitude with his lavish affection.

It's only another couple of days, before Mori is questioning whether he'd ever truly lived, before this. Before Yasashii's smiles and his easy warmth, and his endless lively interest in Mori and the world around them. He leads Mori out to explore the surrounding forest, sharing all of its quiet hidden secrets; where the wild apples and chestnuts grow, where an old graceful willow stoops over the mossy bank of a quiet, slow-moving stream. The meadow atop a nearby hill where pheasants and field mice make their nests, and tiny burrowing creatures peek up from their holes. They stretch out atop a warm flat rock in a sun-drenched clearing and eat the berries Yasashii had found nearby. In return, Mori teaches him how to pick out shapes from the clouds sailing high overhead.

He had never understood what it meant, when people spoke of a happy, carefree life. Since his earliest recollection, Mori had been taught to live a life that was useful, honorable and brave. It was the most he'd ever aspired to, and so all this sudden pleasure and desire and joy rather blindside him. There are moments he catches himself, wondering if he's about to awaken from this dream, alone in that chilly damp cave or on a hard cot in some farmer's bunk house. Can this truly be his life, he wonders? Is he allowed to have this, now?

And then comes the morning when Yasashii leans in and kisses Mori on the forehead, and on the chin, and then presses his cheek to Mori's and says softly into his ear, "Would you come with me, to the river today?"

Mori had already embraced him, pulled him closer without a thought. "Of course. You want to show me something, there?"

Yasashii draws back enough to gaze at him, solemn and searching. "The most important thing."

He says nothing else until they reach the river, close to an hour later. It's gone down quite a bit since the last time Mori was here, after all those days of rain. At the spot where Yasashii leads him, it's only a wide shallow stream.

"Wait here on this side," Yasashii tells him. "I'll come back, okay?"  
He's still so solemn about it that Mori agrees without question, even when Yasashii strips off all his clothing, right there on the bank. Mori is tempted to protest that it's too cold for swimming, but Yasashii is already wading through water past his ankles, to the opposite bank.

And then on the other side....

Mori is on his knees before he even realizes they've given out on him. On the other side of the water, looking back at Mori, Yasashii is something else. 

The problem is not that this is impossible, what Mori is seeing, for Mori has gone his whole life seeing things that others call impossible. The problem is that Mori is only seeing it now, what he ought to have known all along. All of the hints he did not examine. All of the questions that had been gathering at the back of his mind, but which he had not asked himself. 

Countless times since childhood, Mori has talked with ghosts and elemental spirits, but never has he encountered a being such as this. The legends call them gods, tricksters, messengers. But all Mori knows about, is the young man who's just learned to make tea, who curls his warm limbs around Mori in the bed they now share, whose smile has already left a permanent brand on Mori's heart.

He looks at the fox sitting on the opposite bank, watching him back with the same grave expression Yasashii had worn all morning. Waiting on Mori to react, to deliver some judgment on him, perhaps.

"I feel like my teachers would be very disappointed in me right now," he finally says. "I should have recognized, that you're more than you seem."   
And it's too late now, he supposes. Because regardless of what Yasashii is, Mori does not favor the prospect of a life without him. He's already too far gone, for that.

The fox swivels an ear at him, but otherwise doesn't move. His coat is thick russet, with a blaze of white from his cheeks down to his forefeet, and his eyes, both in color and expression are unmistakably Yasashii's. Whether in the shape of a young man or a wild creature, he is striking. Beautiful, even.

"You know in all the stories I've heard, people end up regretting things like this. We aren't supposed to get too close to your kind." 

The fox offers no comment, and looking at the shallow running water between them, Mori wonders why Yasashii had crossed it, actually. 

"But I hadn't thought I'd ever get too close to anyone," he muses. "Before I came here, I was alone for a long time. I'm guessing you were, too. Longer than me, maybe." From those same stories he's heard, beings like Yasashii have a far greater life expectancy than humans. For all Mori knows right now, this individual across the stream could be centuries older than him. Yasashii may not look it, but then neither had he looked particularly like a fox deity when they'd gotten up this morning.

"You said the other day, you don't want to be by yourself anymore. And since I've known you, I think I've started to feel the same way. So if you've made your point," he gestures toward the fox's general outline and position, "then maybe we could go home and have breakfast?"

The fox studies him with Yasashii's same placid, curious expression. It's remarkable really, how easy he is to interpret, even without speech.

"I could make those hotcakes again," Mori offers. "They're good with some apple mixed into the batter."

The fox makes a huffing sound, stands on all fours and gives himself a thorough shake, fluffing his coat out all over. Then he steps forward, on his tidy white feet, into the water and across. At the bank, where Mori sits on his heels, the fox ripples and blurs as he emerges from the water. Whatever power is behind this extraordinary transformation, Mori feels it across his skin, making his hair prickle up, and in a brief gust of heat and brilliance, Yasashii reappears next to him, propped up on his hands and peering intently, as though Mori is the puzzling, mysterious one here.

**Author's Note:**

> A brief introduction to the Waterworld
> 
> The thing to understand about the Waterworld is that it's not a linear story so much as a sandbox, that I've played in these past few years with [PandoraCulpa](http://archiveofourown.org/users/PandoraCulpa). It's a collection of ongoing episodes and story arcs, with recurring characters. Some of those characters are extrapolated from fandoms, and some are OCs. So you may recognize folks showing up from Ouran Host Club (Mori and Yasashii are actually borrowed from my [Blackbird AU](http://archiveofourown.org/series/8799)), Fullmetal Alchemist, xxxHolic, the BBC Sherlock series, Harry Potter, or anywhere else that strikes our fancy.
> 
> The world itself emerged when I lost my mind during a desert heatwave a few years ago, and started wondering what would happen if someday in the future, the whole U.S. West Coast fell into the Pacific Ocean, leaving the Sierra Nevada mountain range as oceanfront property and the Nevada Desert a massive inland lake. Fast forward several centuries after the cataclysm, and that Great Lake, and the land around it, becomes the setting of this universe. This Lake Country contains magic and myths, and gods and spirits, and its rules and inhabitants are still being discovered through these stories.


End file.
